<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Aggre: Senior Year by velveetas_hell</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30086556">Aggre: Senior Year</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/velveetas_hell/pseuds/velveetas_hell'>velveetas_hell</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, But only a little, Drug Use, Heats, Highschool AU, Love Triangles, Mutual Pining, Pining, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader-Insert, Red seems scarier than he really is at first, Reverse Harem, Sans is a dweeb, Skull can have my entire heart, Skull won’t REALLY show up until later, Slow Burn, Swearing, adding more tags as I go, alcohol use, also house parties, and Red., as slow as i can achieve that is, because Red is a menace, boy is fronting, genderless reader, go read Aggre(g/v)ation first!!!!, i mean i already established he’s a menace, no beta we die like men, pacing is hard, reader has a slight penchant for getting in trouble, reader is too, so much pining, so there’s that covered, that too, the main group are all seniors so i wrote them all 18, we knew this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:55:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30086556</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/velveetas_hell/pseuds/velveetas_hell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One last year. So make the most of it.</p><p>New school, new classes, and new monsters, apparently. You’ve managed yourself something of a best friend, though sometimes you aren’t so sure... and now, two others to kick his ass into high gear before they get to you first.</p><p>You just wanted to enjoy your last year before the rest of your life came at you, all at once and with minimal instruction. But now you’ve got these three to deal with until May.</p><p>So, how are you gonna spend your time until then?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mentioned Alphyne, Sans (Horrortale)/Reader, Sans (Underfell)/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The First One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/15229902">Aggre(g/v)ation</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama_Goddess/pseuds/Llama_Goddess">Llama_Goddess</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I sent an anon ask MONTHS ago, asking Llama if someone could write a fic for her highschool AU on Tumblr... and it took me this long to finally get the balls to post the first chapter I wrote literally months ago shsodbjdfn I hope you like it!!! I’m sorry it’s so late,,</p><p>This is my first story I’ve posted in YEARS, so please be easy on me. I’m still getting used to it again, and the anxiety is real lmao</p><p>Go read her fic first!!! It’s one of my favorites. I love her boys. I hope I do them justice.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The area had been without sunshine for weeks.</p><p> </p><p>October ended and November began, and immediately so did the cold fronts. Surely the temperature hadn't surpassed freezing point since, so, out of all the days to get snowed in, who decided that this one had been most appropriate?</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"sheesh."</p><p> </p><p>A familiar voice came up beside you, having been staring likely too long out the doors at the end of the hallway, longer than any other student had. In all honesty, you'd assumed you were alone by this point, what with your bright idea to wait out the snowstorm and everything. But it didn't come as too much of a shock to you to find that Sans had probably taken just as long simply fishing his things out of his locker to leave.</p><p> </p><p>"You're still here?" You laughed, readjusting the textbooks in your hands so that the corners no longer jabbed into your stomach. Outside, snow still came down in absolute <em> barrels </em> , thrashing against the sides of the building in every way possible, so hard that you could <em> hear </em> the wind and snow hit. You couldn't even see through the almost solid looking downpour. It didn't look like it'd let up anytime soon. "And here I thought I was the dumb one for waiting."</p><p> </p><p>"eh. <em> snow </em> problem. i ain't rushing for anything. not my speed." Sans had not a care in the world, it seemed, as he just shrugged, the slightest hint of what you knew was pride at his own mediocre pun written all over his face. You couldn't help but envy his ability to genuinely not give a damn, if only a little bit. You figured you could stand to have that mentality a little more often. Still, though, you rolled your eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"Lazy ass."</p><p> </p><p>He jokingly punched you in the arm. "i was waiting for you, dummy."</p><p> </p><p>"That sounds like an excuse."</p><p> </p><p>"maybe."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>You'd had to push nearly your entire body into your locker to keep its contents from spilling out. But by some miracle, you'd managed to shove your books in and grab your bag before slamming the door shut. Papers jutted out in every direction, but the door was stuck shut firmly in place, which was good enough in the moment— albeit you already felt a twinge of dread knowing you would have to open it again Monday morning.</p><p> </p><p>"you still down for working on that project this weekend?"</p><p> </p><p>You blinked. You'd nearly forgotten about it entirely, but yes; you briefly recalled talking about it a couple days ago at lunch. Some science project you were certain you didn't understand yourself, but luckily for you, your lab partner was actually incredibly intelligent.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>He never really showed it outside of class, but Sans was actually pretty knowledgeable when it came to things that normally made your head spin. Science class, in any of its forms, maths, physics, you name it. If you didn't understand something, there was a one hundred percent chance he did. Which made all of those things that much more tolerable. Any questions you had or tests you hadn't studied for, the odd assignment or three, Sans could pretty much breeze through like it was as simple as writing his name. And oddly enough, he didn't mind doing so for you. The only thing he ever asked for in return was a couch to crash on and someone to hang out with for the day, which was fine by you. He was a fun guy to hang out with, and it was strange how fast you'd become close friends.</p><p> </p><p>Even stranger if you considered how he'd acted when you'd first met.</p><p> </p><p>That first day after moving had been rough enough, and after 3 other classes that had seemed to last days in their own rights, you'd given up on being punctual and prepared in favor of just <em> finding </em> the class you were supposed to be in. This high school was a lot bigger than your previous one, and a lot stranger and more diverse to boot. Monsters and humans alike attended, which was definitely new and unfamiliar alone. The principal herself, along with many teachers, as well, were monsters. But with the new accommodations to better suit these new employees and students, came a surprising amount of differences from any other school you'd ever attended. Which meant you'd had a <em> hell </em> of a time navigating the building for the first couple weeks, likely over a month.</p><p> </p><p>So, of course, when you'd gotten to your last class for the day, you didn't have a pen. Over the course of the day, every last pen and pencil you'd hauled around in your bag had somehow mysteriously disappeared. You'd asked the closest person if you could borrow one. Enter Sans.</p><p> </p><p>He'd seemed chill enough at first, granted he also looked bored out of his mind and just as ready to go home as you were (little did you know, it wasn't because he didn't <em> care </em> about the subject; he just simply <em> knew it already </em>.) Which honestly wasn't too unreasonable a mistake to make. By the way he was dressed, a hoodie that looked about as old as him by this point, both shoes untied, the backpack next to him overflowing with books and papers and empty chip bags... He didn't seem like the organized, straight-A student you'd expect, maybe aside from the admittedly hilarious circular-rimmed glasses taped onto his skull (no nose… it still made you laugh.) He simply didn't seem to care.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>And boy, did he show it.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>He hadn't even given you so much as a <em> response </em> to your question. Just a shitty look you didn't expect from him and an aggravated snort, and he went back to staring deadpan at the board, like he had better things to do.</p><p> </p><p>At first, you weren't sure what happened. At the very least, he could've just said no! And that wouldn't be the first time something like that happened, either. Every other day, when you came to science, you'd had to sit next to him at your shared desk. And every day, he'd suddenly go from bored and tired to pissed off and grumbling to himself, muttering about humans and complaining about seating arrangements. At the beginning, for a second, it made you feel bad— but after give or take about three separate occasions, it mainly pissed you off. What had <em> you </em> done? You'd had half a mind to tell him off, but you just never <em> quite </em> felt up to it. School was hardcore stressing you out; you knew if you got angry, you'd just cry at that point. Stress had already begun taking a toll on your mental health. People sucked, classes sucked, and you had your own personal life to stress you out, and you were still trying to find <em> work </em>… It was a lot.</p><p> </p><p>Not to mention, you'd picked up on his intellect fast. Sitting next to someone makes it easier to see just what kind of person they are, even if there's a wall up. You could see his grades when they were passed back – you were pretty sure he'd caught you looking more than once – and after about the seventeenth perfect score in a row, you…</p><p> </p><p>Well, you felt kind of stupid.</p><p> </p><p>And then one day, he just… stopped. Stopped getting huffy when you sat next to him, (the <em> nerve </em> you had, sitting in your <em> assigned seat! </em> ) stopped grumbling to himself all class and making every effort possible to ignore you in every way, and he actually approached you first, believe it or not. From that point on, you two had started talking. Became friends, actually. The two of you hung out on a daily basis, nowadays; Usually at your house, but there had been a couple occasions you'd been to his. The first of which you'd gained the <em> immediate </em> approval from his younger brother, who, quote, was "JUST SO HAPPY HE'S MAKING FRIENDS!"</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"Not sure there'll <em> be </em> any project, if we can't get into the building Monday."</p><p> </p><p>You eyed the doors again. By the way it looked outside, you doubted you'd be home within the hour. The wind looked strong enough to put you on your ass pretty fast, and Sans was literally just bones. You were pretty certain a stiff wind could send him flying. Skeletons can't be that heavy. Not to mention your lack of winter clothes was bound to be an issue.</p><p> </p><p>"don't worry about that. i already took care of it, the project's done," Sans didn't seem to mind the slight flicker in the lights, a pretty good sign that there wouldn't be any power for long. "i just don't have anything better to do than take up your couch and play video games all weekend."</p><p> </p><p>"Figures."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>You'd agreed to stop at an old store in the square to wait out the snow a little bit, to see if it'd let up at all. You couldn't feel your fingers and toes anymore, you had (as you'd expected) fallen on your butt four different times already, and you were really just getting tired of making yourself look stupid. You felt completely defeated. And to top it off, Sans, the cheeky bastard, looked perfectly fine.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm glad <em> you're </em> doing alright," You were shivering now, but you were joking, eyes narrowed in mock annoyance. Sans only turned a <em> little </em> more blue in the cheekbones.</p><p> </p><p>"that's nothing. we lived in worse growin' up. goes <em> right through me </em>now." You noted his nervous tic of punning to avoid confrontation, though his face looked suspiciously unaffected. It should be illegal how good he was at hiding his emotions. Fortunately, you'd begun to figure him out.</p><p> </p><p>"I swear you've used that same pun about eighteen times since we started talking. Get some new material."</p><p> </p><p>You'd never admit that you actually found Sans funny. How could you? You'd never hear the end of it.</p><p> </p><p>"you're breaking my heart, kid."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>The store wasn't anything interesting. Relatively small, and there was only one other person inside that you could see, save for the cashier, who was asleep. You wished you'd walked into a diner or something.</p><p> </p><p>"You've never told me much about where you lived before." You grabbed a cart from the return next to the door, trying to seem offhanded as to hopefully not strike a nerve of some sort. You didn't know a lot about Sans' life before the surface, but you <em> did </em>know that some monsters got really upset about bringing it up. Granted, lots of monsters lived in completely different undergrounds.</p><p> </p><p>"not really much to <em>write</em> <em>home </em>about."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Trying to get information out of Sans was a fruitless endeavour that wasn't really worth the effort, but here you were. You’d probably have better luck interrogating his brother.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"I'm assuming it's cold where you lived, then," You ignored his pun in favor of grabbing a bag of chips off the shelf to your left. "How is there weather underground?"</p><p> </p><p>Sans shrugged, absentmindedly scrolling through something on his phone. "dunno. <em> snow </em> telling, i heard it was like that when we got there. but who really knows."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Magic has and will continue to confuse you forever, it seemed. How was Sans staying in one piece? The only answer you'd ever been given was "magic." You'd given up trying to rationalize and just accepted that monsters were above the laws of human physics and didn't need an explanation. But that didn't stop you from being curious. You actually thought Sans and his brother were pretty cool, because of how much they confused you moreover other monsters you'd met. However you'd often spend a ridiculous amount of time mulling over how Sans was put together, and maybe that was just because you spent more time together, but also because he <em> really </em> wasn't human. Neither of them were, obviously, but it really seemed Papyrus fit the bill for a skeleton in more ways than his brother, and Sans was so different from skeletons as you knew them that it tended to nag at your brain. Where Papyrus had a skull that pretty well matched what you were familiar with the skeletal system (with obvious exceptions,) Sans's skull was wide and round and confusingly malleable. His bones were thicker, and formed to serve more fleshed out palms and arms and a neck where it met collarbone; his jaw was fused and one with the rest of his skull, yet opened and closed like it wasn’t, like a mouth. Embarrassingly enough, it had kept you awake at night on more than a couple occasions. It was <em> confusing. </em> And that was the only reason.</p><p> </p><p>You found the topic of relationships to be kind of uncomfortable, truthfully, but you had to give credit where credit was due; your friend was attractive. In a less human sense than you were used to, but attractive nonetheless. He had a handsome smile, and the lights in his eyes were glow-y and pretty and made you wish you had a better look at them. And he had a way of looking best when he didn't try at all. Moments like then, when he was absentmindedly talking and being his jokey self, not really doing much of anything – his speciality – he pulled it off. Though you tried not to think about it too much. And that wasn't because he was a monster or anything. You had just always felt awkward thinking about relationships and love and affection and whatnot. It wasn't your forte. Not to mention, Sans had a bad habit of sending so many mixed signals that it was usually impossible to tell if he actually cared for you in that way or not.</p><p> </p><p>Either way, it just felt weird assuming anyone felt anything for you. You weren't stupid, you saw it; the constant cycle of Sans trying to be subtle, throwing some random ass line out every now and then, and ultimately failing, before scrambling to backpedal himself back to uncomfortable friendzoning. The feelings were there, on both sides (you think.) But it was easier to pretend you didn't see the signs and ignore it than to come to terms with your own insecurities about a relationship. Maybe once you got your own emotions figured out, and stopped being afraid of committing to any sort of intimate relationship whatsoever, you'd tell him. You didn't want to lead him on if you didn't know if you actually harboured feelings for him.</p><p> </p><p>For now, just having a goofy buddy to play video games and tell stupid jokes with was enough, and you didn't want to risk messing that up.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"oh. Paps told me to tell you he says 'hi,' by the way." Sans' voice broke your train of thought entirely. You scrambled to catch up.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh. Sorry, I wasn't listening. Tell him I said 'hi' back." You were somehow all the way across the store. "How's he been doing?"</p><p> </p><p>"pretty great. as usual. volleyball season is over, so he's trying out for a couple different clubs. a couple different languages, drama club… he's even taking a chef's course at the college for an extra couple of credits."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>If there was one thing to get Sans talking, it was Papyrus. He'd probably go on for hours if you let him. And it also earned you a big smile that you <em> swore </em> only you got the privilege of seeing. It never failed to make you smile, too.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"No surprise."</p><p> </p><p>"what can i say, ‘guy's an overachiever." He grabbed a two-liter off a shelf and set it in the cart, next to a bag of frozen fries you'd thrown in earlier.</p><p> </p><p>You agreed. "I'm pretty sure Papyrus would excel at anything he put his mind towards doing."</p><p> </p><p>"he's makin' friends, too. i'm happy for him. he's adjusting just about as well as i expected he would." A ping, Sans' phone. He unlocked it, scrolled a moment, then pocketed it again. "hold on. speaking of, he wants me to grab somethin'. be right back."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>As you were making your way back toward the front of the building, you half noticed the bell over the doors ring. You were more focused on reaching an energy drink towards the far back of a taller shelf. Figures Sans would walk off now, right when you need help. You huffed as your hand barely grazed the can, but stopped short.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> SLAM </em>
</p><p> </p><p>– From the front, followed by a yelp.</p><p> </p><p>You nearly fell backwards. Luckily you'd caught the edge of your cart, just before it'd had time to roll into another isle. Mildly pissed, you stuck your head around the corner just enough to investigate who the <em> fuck </em> just about ruined your day.</p><p> </p><p>"heh! s'just me, Pants, chill ta hell out!"</p><p> </p><p>The sharpest skeleton you'd ever seen stood in front of the cashier, hands still pressed firmly into the counter on either side of him. He was laughing.</p><p> </p><p>Sans?</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"The hell?"</p><p> </p><p>You realized you'd spoken as soon as his skull whipped around to look at you. One golden tooth catching the light from the store window, one gnarly looking crack shattering upward from it, eyelights a bright, intense red, completely unlike your best friend's…</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>… Not Sans.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>An absolutely <em>predatory</em> smile spread on his skull – sharp teeth curled up at the corners to form one of the most shark-like expressions you'd ever seen on a person. His eyelights all but burst upon gaining your attention, looking more like flames than dots. But they didn't flicker like flames, they <em>roared</em> like a fire; they didn't crack, they popped and sizzled. They glowed orange-red like ember in a fireplace, glittered against one, golden canine… and on the counter, clawed, skeletal fingers tapped in unison, each phalange ending in a <em>surprisingly</em> sharp point. Tap, tap, tapping, almost as a warning, a dare, an <em>open</em> <em>invitation</em>, screaming "<em>try me.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>He stared. Unwavering, unbreaking, <em> intensely </em> , his grin never fading, not even a twitch at the ends, or any sign that he even breathed (not that he'd have to… you think.) You'd have sworn he'd simply never moved before, had you not seen it happen just a couple seconds prior. All of his attention was on <em> you </em> , and he was <em> paying attention </em> . His eyes bored holes in your soul, and for a split second you could see the faintest indication of heavy thought and concentration. You couldn't tell if he was trying to read <em> your </em> mind or set you on fire with his.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Then, as if the interaction hadn't even occurred, he turned, and went back to his conversation with the cashier. A cat monster, who, still, somehow looked like that scare might've sent him into cardiac arrest. You didn't blame him. In fact you were about sixty percent sure you might have signed over your rights to living just by making eye contact. You listened in.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"a'ight, Pants, here's what i owe ya." He sounded gruff when he spoke, not caring enough to lower his voice. You watched him slap what you presumed was a wad of bills on the counter.</p><p> </p><p>The cat monster looked around, sweating. They argued back and forth a moment, while you gathered your bearings. You were still alive, right? You felt like you might've died.</p><p> </p><p>"forget yer boss, i'll talk to 'im if shit happens, i paid in full this time. hurry up, wouldja?"</p><p> </p><p>"Wait, this time?" said the cashier.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Ten fingers. Good, you still had your fingers. Arms… legs intact. You brought both hands up to your face. Hair's still there. Eyes, nose, mouth, the essentials. Ghosts still had faces, though, you thought. Maybe you <em> did </em> die.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"Burgerpants."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Did you ever have piercings? What about glasses? <em> Did you wear glasses?? </em></p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"Alright, alright, just be quiet!"</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>A sigh. The orange tabby cat (Burgerpants… had you heard that right?) fumbled around his uniform, looking around to see if any of the store's surveillance happened to be on him, and quickly pulled a dime bag out of the pocket of his khakis. He shoved it into the skeleton's waiting hand, pocketed the money, and wiped his face with his hat, thus completing their transaction.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p><em> Fucking hell. Not even a minute dead and I’ve already witnessed a drug deal. </em>You guessed the afterlife was just as shit as real life. That’s kind of disappointing. They really overhyped it.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"Now, are you gonna buy anything?"</p><p> </p><p>The skeleton shrugged, tucking the bag away somewhere in the inner lining of his coat. "sure." He threw a lighter on the counter, then pointed behind the cashier towards the cabinet of cigarettes.</p><p> </p><p>An exasperated, almost tearful customer service smile. "You know I need an ID, buddy. I'll lose my job."</p><p> </p><p>"don't worry 'bout it,” he smiled, “got one right here." He handed him a card, looking oddly proud of himself. The cashier, eyebrow raised, took it and looked over it a second. However, after only a brief moment of evaluation, quickly deadpanned.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"… Red." He sighed again, his face in his hand.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"hm?"</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"If you're going to give me a fake ID, at <em> least </em> try and make it believable."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>'Red' guffawed. "whaddaya mean? it's totally legit. see, i got my name here, an' my birthday here…"</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"Under 'sex,' you typed, 'absolutely.'"</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Sometime right around then was when Sans reappeared, carrying a gallon of milk, a couple boxes of pasta and some parmesan cheese, but you'd honestly forgotten why you were there in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>"sorry about that. couldn't find the pasta Papyrus wanted." Sans apologized, now seeming bluer, smaller, and arguably cuddlier than the skeleton you'd been gawking at for a couple minutes now. He tossed his things into the cart and looked at you. "hey, you okay? you look like you died or somethin'."</p><p> </p><p>You had… questions. But you would ask later.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>When you'd gotten up to the counter, Red was already gone, leaving you with 'Burgerpants'… and wouldn't you know it, that was his name. You assumed it was a nickname or something. However, Sans remained.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"did you know that Bilbo always has trouble with self-service checkouts?"</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>You groaned. Burgerpants looked as if he'd seen literal Hell every day for most of his life, and therefore seemed somehow completely unaffected by Sans.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"Sans, no. Please. I'm begging you to stop."</p><p> </p><p>"they always tell him there's an unexpected item in the Baggins area."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>No. Don't laugh. You refused to laugh at that. You glared instead.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Sans almost seemed like he'd be quiet for a moment, but you knew better. He waited a moment to pick up the divider off of the belt.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"ya'know, i've been trying to buy one of these for ages. but every time i try, the cashier just puts it back."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>From behind the counter, your stressed-looking cashier looked to you, as if <em> you </em> could do anything about him. He checked his watch, then continued scanning items, asking if you wanted your milk in a bag.</p><p> </p><p>You almost answered. <em> Almost </em> answered. But you knew <em> all too well </em> what was going to come out of your skeletal friend's mouth as <em> soon </em> as you saw the absolute <em> gleam </em>in his eyelights.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"Sans-" You all but hissed, nudging him hard in the side with your elbow, but it was no use.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"i think it's just fine in the carton."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>You were still mad walking home.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"You didn't have to do that," you huffed. The snow was only flurrying now, but there was still over a foot of snow on the ground.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"let me pay for your groceries, damn."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"I will <em> not </em>."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Across the street, you couldn't help but notice… the prettiest motorcycle you'd ever seen sat idle in the snow. It was a beautiful shade of red and chrome, and sparkled with the light from the snow around it. You weren't necessarily a motorcycle buff, but it was one of those things that was so pretty even <em> you </em> had to admire it.</p><p> </p><p>And there stood mister Red himself, swiping snow off the top of it. Of course it would be his, you should've known. As if the leather coat and boots weren't enough, he had the personality and the aesthetic to match. You guessed he was loaded or something… you couldn't even afford to fix your van. </p><p> </p><p>Now that he wasn't staring so intensely at you, you could actually focus on his face. When he didn't remind you too much of looking directly at a live shark, he looked more like a person than just that. There was red under his eyes, and you couldn't tell if it was lighting or if he was simply exhausted, but he shuffled, griped, yawned and complained as he cleared his bike. His eyes looked tired, overall, when they weren't glaring, but like Sans, he shared his ability to look nicer when he wasn't trying. Tired or not, this was real, and you had to appreciate it.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"kid." Sans had stopped walking and turned around so fast you almost tripped over him. Looking at his face, he was blue and serious and looking right back at you. Not even a hint of a smile, which felt wrong, but rather he continued to get bluer. "it's not a big deal. i care about you, okay? let me buy you stuff every once and a while. it's just groceries."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Oh yeah. Groceries.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Damnit.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Sans didn't say stuff like that a lot. So you stayed silent in favor of not arguing and causing him to never say it again… because it made you smile a little.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>When you got home, it was almost dark. Neither of you really acknowledged your bags and just walked into the kitchen with the groceries, as per your usual routine with Sans over. You'd get home from school, go to the kitchen, and open and close the fridge and the cabinets indefinitely until something to eat magically appeared. You didn't feel like cooking, so it was just the snacks and soda for the night. As usual, Sans heaved himself up to sit on the counter while you put things away.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"what's the verdict?"</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>You hummed, crouching in front of the kitchen cabinets. Fumbled through for a moment, paused… "Looks like it's a good thing you bought popcorn."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"don't give me all the credit. i just paid." Sans was tapping his phalanges on the counter, but at least he was looking at you now, unlike earlier.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, well," you looked over your shoulder, a little peeved about it still. "Thank you. You didn't have to."</p><p> </p><p>"seriously. it's nothing. you're too forgetful to ever bring enough cash with you anyway."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>You absolutely did, he just never let you pay for anything when you went places. Also, hey! Rude. You were used to it, but still, shit.</p><p> </p><p>But as you'd feared, he was starting to sound a little upset. It showed in the way he held himself, too– posture stiffening, toes tapping (more bouncing, as they didn’t quite reach the floor,) hands balled and pressed into his pockets, and he wouldn't look at you. Too much attention brought to him, you guessed. But despite every ounce of your brain that told you to back off, you pressed with a comment of your own.</p><p> </p><p>"... You do that a lot."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>…</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"what?"</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>You reconsidered, questioning whether or not you wanted to bring it up at all.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"That. You say something, or do something really nice, even though you don't have to… and then immediately contradict yourself when I point it out. You're like the opposite of a sour patch kid. You're nice, and then you're bitter." You tore the package of popcorn open with your teeth. "Why?"</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>This was probably stupid. The anxiety of confrontation was already making your stomach churn.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"i guess i <em> do </em> do that."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Sans sounded so uncharacteristically meek about that statement that you actually turned to face him, sitting awkwardly on the counter and staring at a particularly interesting digit in his thumb. He wasn't looking at you. Was that all it took to fluster him?</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>You let yourself fall backward onto your butt, popcorn half unwrapped in one hand. "It's not a big deal or anything. I was just curious."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"…"</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>That was yet another thing that happened with Sans that always confused you. Most of the time, he made an effort to maintain his laid-back, modulated but carefree demeanour. But there were times he'd just suddenly lose his cool entirely, leaving you with a slightly irritated, uncomfortable, blue skeleton. And that's not an understatement, it was sudden. It was completely impossible to tell what would tip him off. It was always such a total 180 from his usual personality that it always managed to catch you off guard. And, to be honest, you weren't ever sure what to do about it when it happened. Some days, he'd snap at you when you pried about what was wrong, like a hurt dog. Others, he'd just stay a little quiet for a while until he felt better, but you always found him lingering at a bit of a distance afterward. And then, every now and then, he'd chance hanging significantly closer to you than before, asking questions about what you're doing or how your friends are feeling. It was during one of those rare days that you began to notice the feelings blooming in the back of your mind.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>It was really a gamble, but you still wanted to help. Even after popcorn had popped, and you'd started playing video games, he still sat uncomfortably at the end of your bed, his back to you. You could tell he wasn't comfortable.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"Hey," you nudged him with your foot, causing him to drop a couple pieces of popcorn (tragic) and force himself to look vaguely in your direction. Not good enough. You paused the game, moved, and gave him a sort of side-hug from an odd angle, but it served its purpose. "It's cool. <em> We're </em> cool. We cool?"</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>A moment passed as he paused. It made you a little anxious, waiting for any sort of readable expression on his face, whether it be the usual lazy grin or anger. There was always a chance he'd get uppity and defensive, but, thankfully, Sans huffed out a laugh.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"we cool."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>You held up a salt and butter covered hand for a fist bump, which he obliged with his own.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"Cool."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>And you were cool.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Buttery fist bumps for cool kids.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sans: *does something relatively nice like a normal person*<br/>MC: thanks!<br/>Sans: no wait nevermind i take it back stupid</p><p>CHAPTER ONE DONE HOLY H*CK IM ANXIOUS</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Second One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You get lost trying to find your art class... Luckily, you find someone who can help.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
209… 209…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You glanced down at the torn bit of paper again, just to be sure. You'd read it right the last eighteen times you'd checked. There it was, written in the secretary's fast handwriting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Room 209.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A groan, and you allowed yourself to stop in the middle of the hall again.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then where in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> was it, then???</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You'd been in school long enough to know where most things were (thanks to Sans, for showing you around.) It was a 2 storey building, with another lower basement level under the first used mainly for storage and utility, and the shop classroom. Outside the main building stood a couple seperate ones, including the cafeteria, the stadium, and an old brick fort-looking one you think used to be an art classroom before they put in the newer one. It was boarded up, and most the windows were smashed in, but you'd heard it was still used for some storage. There were a few others towards the baseball, tennis, and soccer fields, which held most of the sports equipment, and one small building just off of the football bleachers you assumed was just to operate the lights and sound systems. You were pretty certain your mystery classroom wasn't in any of those, but you'd checked the stadium offices and around the cafeteria building anyway… with no luck.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Along with being the first human/monster diverse school in history, being plopped directly in the middle of Ebott, the demand for more space and curriculum grew with the student body. Therefore, construction wasn't an uncommon sight. Usually there were about three or four classrooms or halls out of commission at a time, so rooms could be added on or accommodated to fit more and more types of monsters. Your third period was no exception; today, you had arrived at your Art class, books weighing down your bag, to find the room emptied out and vacant, with a sign on the door signifying its plans to be finished come second semester. Which was fine and everything, but nobody had told you where your class was being held </span>
  <em>
    <span>until</span>
  </em>
  <span> then.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You'd gone to the office right after, only to be sent to the counselor's desk… who sent you back to the front office. The secretary there had you wait about twenty odd minutes, while she called up different staff members in hopes of figuring out who was responsible for looking up and tracking schedules. A small group of staff showed up, and huddled around the computer for another ten minutes, none of them knowing </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what they were looking for… before she'd given you a slip of paper with 'Room 209' written on it, not looking as sure of herself as you would've liked (in fact, she seemed more like she wanted to get rid of you, in all honesty.) And with that you'd been sent back out of the office, internally damning the public school system once again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You'd found rooms 208 and 210 relatively easily, actually! The classrooms were numbered for a reason, and you'd followed the pattern across the school… only to find that there </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>no class 209. You thought maybe you'd missed it at first, investigating a bit a ways down the hall in both directions, checking the rooms across from the two, as well… to find nothing. Class 208 was an empty computer lab, used primarily for storage, by the looks of it— from the outside looking into the little window, all you saw was cardboard. Being a bigger lab, it had another door down the hall a bit, at the other end of the room. And 210 was a faculty restroom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But no 209. Because it made total sense not to put the room right in between the two.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you gratefully set your heavy bag down against a wall of lockers to check it.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>sweet and sour chicken:</b>
  <span> any luck yet</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”Sweet and sour chicken.” The perfect contact name for someone as moody as Sans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
You huffed.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> nope. im getting tired of walking</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>sweet and sour chicken:</b><span> it cant just not exist, u gotta b </span>missing it somewhere</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A quick photo of the two rooms, no door between them, and he responded.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>sweet and sour chicken:</b>
  <span> ur right its not there</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> thanks</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>sweet and sour chicken:</b>
  <span> np</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sans was, of course, of no help whatsoever. You sighed, picking your bag up again. Surely you'd run into someone in the halls at some point, preferably staff, and maybe they could tell you, you thought. If not, you were mulling over the anxiety of knocking on a random classroom's door and disturbing a class to ask… as mortifying as that always was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You were about to start walking again, but a sound on the other side of 208's door caught your attention. It was faint, and you wouldn't have heard it if you hadn't been right outside the door, muffled by the boxes stacked against it. It was quick, like a shuffle, but that was it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a split second, you thought maybe the office had gotten the number wrong, and your hopes soared. You hurried to the other door, but stopped short when you looked in the window and saw the lights off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So much for that.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, that raised the question; what'd you hear? Maybe the school had rodents, or something. With all the construction, you figured it'd be pretty easy for rodents and bugs to crawl in, in an attempt to get out of the snow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you had a more hopeful thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it's a teacher, getting something out of storage.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You hoped you were right the second time. It's not like you had a ton of other options, unless you wanted to sit back at the office for another eternity. Hopeful, you stepped in, the door clicking shut behind you.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stacks upon stacks of cardboard boxes and storage tubs created a dark maze, starting from the door. The light switch had been taped over, so you would have to improvise. A narrow path was left between unsettlingly tall stacks of what, judging by the sharpie scribbled on the sides, were boxes of textbooks. If one of these walls happened to not be as sturdy as they looked… you cringed at the thought of being crushed by exactly the thing you'd expected. Schoolwork. Ironic… you really thought it'd happen more gradually. And less literally.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Using your phone as light, you carefully shuffled in, taking care not to touch either barrier at your sides. The path was winding, which unsettled you a bit, and you were beginning to entertain the idea of rodents. No teacher in their right mind would brave this death trap, for anything.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You announced yourself to the room. If there really was nobody in there, you didn't want to get in trouble for messing around in rooms you shouldn't, so you kept quiet. However, nobody responded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Further into the maze was a clearing where most of the boxes stopped.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was just… an empty computer lab, with the tables shifted around just a little toward the center.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some of the towers still blinked green and red, but most seemed unplugged or broken. (One was on, however… when you nudged the mouse, the monitor lit up; there was a Spotify playlist pulled up. Lots of grindcore, lots of thrash and black metal, some classic rock… and an embarrassing selection of late 90’s dance-pop?) More boxes seemed intentionally shoved up against the other door, and the blinds on the windows were closed tight, behind more walls of cardboard. Chairs were stacked against the back whiteboard, along with a couple scattered around the clearing. The only interesting thing about it was the smell of the place; it smelled like someone had smoked in here not too long ago, which didn't surprise you. This would be the place to do it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was just you. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was. You groaned, again. Class was going to be over by the time you found it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You turned around to head back out, but accidentally bumped into the cardboard wall of death, jumping back a good foot or two.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking up, however, proved you had run straight into a </span>
  <em>
    <span>person</span>
  </em>
  <span>, instead.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"heya, sweetheart."</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And you were looking up </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> into a pair of bright red eyelights.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Red eyelights.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even worse, was your initial reaction… to throw your phone as hard as you could, completely </span>
  <em>
    <span>smoking</span>
  </em>
  <span> him in the face.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"son of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch</span>
  </em>
  <span>! what ta hell was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> fuckin' for?!" Eyelights weren't visible, as he was too busy doubled over, clutching his skull.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That was </span>
  </em>
  <span>not </span>
  <em>
    <span>my fault.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry! You scared the hell out of me!" You apologized anyway. You were freaking out, now, too, the volume of your voice be damned… Of all the people to get cornered by, it just </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be Red… and you just beamed him in the head with your phone. You were already going through the five stages of grief as he cursed out loud in the dark. Even in the low light, you could still see the glint of his tooth in cloudy sunlight, where it spilled in from behind blinds and between boxes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"yeah, no kiddin'!" He was glaring, now, you could see it as your eyes began to adjust. "i just thoughtcha'd… scream, or somethin'. i didn't think ya'd go an' try bashin' my skull in!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I said I'm sorry!!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You weren’t, but.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a moment to rub the soreness in the center of his forehead, right between the eyes, before settling on you. Something in his eyelights flickered for a split second, with the slightest twitch in his smile, and he grinned.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"heeeyyy… i remember you…"</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even in the dark, he was still so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>sharper</span>
  </em>
  <span> up close. Bigger, too. He was a whole head taller, and wider than you'd realized before. He was wearing the same fur-trimmed, hooded jacket, unzipped this time. Underneath, a black shirt that hugged his ribs and served to make him look even bigger. Red stood like he ran the place, with a confidence that radiated off of him in droves. And standing in front of him, having just assaulted him, in a dark room, </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you felt about three times smaller already.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"don'tcha know it's rude to stare?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was hard not to. You found your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth and yourself at a lack for words.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"'course, i'm starin' too."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And he was. Darkness or not, you could tell. There was an incredible amount of heat in your face, and whether it was due to rage, or the embarrassment of the increasingly unsavory way his eyes were trained on you, you weren't sure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You wanna run that by me again?” You forced venom into your words, as much as you could. Secretly, you were proud of how sure you sounded. Though he seemed to take it as more of a challenge than a threat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"i didn't mean any offense," he said, casually, "i meant it in ta best way possible. i ain't ever been a creative type, but sometimes, ya can't help but appreciate fine art when ya see it."</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, barf. That was cornier than shit.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'd say you're a real piece of work yourself," you said, without thinking. But you didn't stop yourself, either. This guy was making an ass out of himself, and you could just as well serve him a swift metaphorical kick to the metaphorical(?) nuts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, this only served to fuel his bullshit even further.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"well, i'd say ya’d hafta be an artist, then, 'cuz i'm pretty </span>
  <em>
    <span>drawn</span>
  </em>
  <span> to ya," he leaned down a little, with a slight bounce to his brow bones that </span>
  <em>
    <span>might've </span>
  </em>
  <span>made you laugh, if he hadn't been such an asswipe. "tell me, sweetheart, what brings ya nosin' around in rooms ya shouldn't durin' class?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I could ask you the same question."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"easy. came in here for a smoke." You hadn't noticed before the burning something in his right hand, probably mostly burnt up by now. He brought it up to his teeth and took a long drag that exhausted the thing, and snuffed the leftover paper into an old gatorade bottle on the desk just left of him. "i don't suppose ya came in here ta join me."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I was just looking for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>class</span>
  </em>
  <span>," you huffed, readjusting your bag over your shoulder and retrieving your phone from across the floor. "I heard you moving around in here, and thought it might’ve been someone who could help me find it. I've been looking all third period, but since it isn’t—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"'course, i’d love to. pretty sure it'd be more fun waitin' it out in here with me, but… i'd be more than willin' ta help ya out." He stood more upright, stretching his arms behind his head, and yawned; jaw wide open, you were grievously reminded once again of a bear trap… catching a quick, golden glint from somewhere </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside</span>
  </em>
  <span> (How did he have a tongue piercing? </span>
  <em>
    <span>How did he have a tongue???</span>
  </em>
  <span>). Claws came back up to scratch a spot on the side of his face, scraping down his chin, and he thought. Briefly. Then, regained his usual leer, a bastard smile that both bothered and beguiled you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...fer a price.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> shit. Okay.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pass,” you said, flatly. Something told you that whatever it was that Red wanted from you, it wasn’t anything you were much interested in providing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“suit yerself.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held up something. Though heavy, he showed no sign of struggle to be holding it up as he was, slung lackadaisical over his shoulder; even so, he made sure you knew exactly what it was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“though, yer prolly gonna need this.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your art textbook.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as your eyes landed on the thing, you sprung for it, leaping full-on at him in an attempt to get it back. With a deep, raucous laugh, and a quick step to the side, Red still held the book, higher now, over his head. Papers threatened to spill out of its pages, most of which were rough drafts, littered every now and again with notes and dates, but most of which you wouldn’t have been thrilled to share. Things you drew or wrote at some point in class, but hadn’t cared enough to put in a folder. For its sake, and your own, you made the decision not to prompt him to move any more, in fear of shaking the precious pages loose. Instead, you opted to politely reason with Red.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fork over my art homework, bonemeal.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>… You need to work on your insults.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Where had your tact gone in a matter of minutes? Your sense of life preservation? Surely you had more restraint than that. Fortunately his only retort was another snicker, only adding to the growing displeasure you were struggling to choke down in the first place. He gave the book another once-over.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“hm… what’s in it fer me?”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You actually didn’t have a response to that. As much as you wanted to keep insulting him, honestly, there wasn’t a whole lot you would’ve done about it. Fake it ‘til you make it, but empty threats would only get you so far. And you were pretty certain he could see right through that kind of thing.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“tell ya what. i’ll cut ya a deal, Picasso, </span>
  <em>
    <span>picture</span>
  </em>
  <span> this,” he kept the book tucked tightly under his arm, talking with his hands for emphasis. “i give you yer shit back, but only if you,” he poked a finger in your direction, “let me walk ya to class.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You hadn’t realized that was the end of it until he crammed both hands farther into his jacket pockets, brow bones raised in a silent “</span>
  <em>
    <span>well?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Was that really all he wanted? You’d spent so long being intimidated by him that you hadn’t really entertained the idea that he might just want to talk to you like a normal person. And if so, that really said something about you, too, didn’t it? Rude of you to assume he had ill-intent just because he looked a little scary. Never let it be said that you’d ever been one to judge someone by their looks. However… you had other reasons to assume he wasn’t entirely pristine in his efforts. Maybe it was the incessant flirting, or maybe it was the reality that he hung out in dark old storage rooms for fun. A toss, really, but your bet was on the latter.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“... What’s the catch?”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“the catch is ya gotta talk to me. and ya gotta make up yer mind before i change mine.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Deal.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Talking to Red felt more natural than it should’ve. Though the two of you had never talked with each other previously, he had a certain recognizable tilt to the way he spoke, inflections in his voice and the things he said that kept you feeling as if you’d been close for quite a while longer. He reminded you so much of Sans, in that sense of closeness (along with many other things about him… his appearance, his poor taste in humor, similarities in the ways they dressed, even…) But Red’s easy confidence was such a far cry from Sans’ snappy diffidence that you were actually beginning to have fun comparing the two. It didn’t hurt that Red was carrying your backpack.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“dunno what you keep in here, but what kinda asshole would i be if i didn’t offer to carry yer things?”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked comfortable; hands behind his skull, your bag slung halfway over his shoulder, as he led your way through mostly vacated halls.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Somehow, you didn’t strike me as well-mannered.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“that so?” He beamed, clearly still proud of himself for convincing you to hang with him, and not at all offended by your statement in the slightest. “well, sweetness, i’d sure love to hear all the things ya </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> see in me.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So much of Sans, actually. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was a little weird. But you weren’t a monster, you didn’t know how that sort of thing worked. Maybe you shouldn’t stick your nose in it. Still, what was the harm in asking if they knew one another?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In your pocket, your phone buzzed again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Speaking of which.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>sweet and sour chicken:</b>
  <span> u get 2 class?</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> something like that</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>sweet and sour chicken:</b>
  <span> ???</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> we’ll find out ig</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>sweet and sour chicken:</b>
  <span> btw, r u in any hurry getting home today?</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You: </b>
  <span>no, why?</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>sweet and sour chicken:</b>
  <span> needed 2 wait on paps today after school, some sports thing idk</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>sweet and sour chicken:</b>
  <span> wanted 2 know if we’d b walking home alone r not</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You:</b>
  <span> naw i’ll wait up, it’s nbd</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>sweet and sour chicken:</b>
  <span> k cool, see u at lunch</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know Sans?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“uh… what?”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To your amusement, his eyelights nearly bugged out of his skull when you asked that. You guessed he was just shocked you actually wanted to talk.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sans. He’s another skeleton, looks a lot like you. I’ve never seen him wear anything else but that raggedy ass blue hoodie, kinda short, glasses. I thought maybe y’all knew each other or somethin’.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“oh.” He visibly mellowed out a little. “yeah, i know ‘im… we ain’t close ‘r nothin’. he’s a’ight, i guess… strikes me as the type to live a mile up the teacher’s ass, though.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You let yourself snort at that one. Mean, but you could see it. Was it just because he got better grades and you were bitter about it? Absolutely, yes.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” you asked. You’d agreed to walk with him, so long as he took you to your class. But if he was just gonna get you in trouble…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“‘course i do. but i need to run to my locker, first.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What!”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You checked the time. At this rate, you would’ve been better off waiting in the front office!</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said you were walking me to art! I’m gonna miss it!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“s’what i’m doin’. i never said i wasn’t makin’ a couple stops on the way there,” he shrugged, “and ‘sides, i wouldn’t dream of makin’ ya late…-er. later. what kinda monster do ya take me for??”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You have a flat look, and nothing more.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“well… at least ya ain’t stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“HEY!!”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>— Yelled what was arguably the fastest streak of bright red you’d ever seen, had you not known better.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had you not known better, you wouldn’t have expected the bone-crushing impact before it hit you like running headlong into a brick fucking wall. Had you not known the voice (all too well,) you wouldn’t have known to at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>attempt</span>
  </em>
  <span> to move before it hit. Had you not known Undyne, you would’ve been a lot more indignant toward the assault. But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> know better, and you knew</span>
  <em>
    <span> her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And just about anyone and everyone who knew her knew that this was to be expected. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a reason, after all, that just about everyone in school called her Jaws. And she wore her name like a badge of honor, hell, hated to be called anything else. Still, though, you never quite got used to it. The headlock she had you in was impossible to break; you squawked and flailed like a moron, but thankfully there wasn’t a hallway full of people to laugh at you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You really expected a lot more black than she was wearing. An outfit that would normally be significantly more covered in leather and adorned with spikes was now replaced with a gym shirt, the ugliest shade of puke brown with green and gold lettering, (the school colors, although the “gold” served to look more of a dark piss yellow instead,) jersey shorts, and cleats. It was jarring. Surprisingly tame for a monster as aggressive on main as she was. The only thing that didn’t stick out like a sore thumb was the cleats, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and although you’d previously had the displeasure of being at the business end of those studs, they hailed in comparison to her teeth… her namesake, of course. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Love</span>
  </em>
  <span> the fit, bestie.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She made a point to ignore you, arm curling tighter around your head, and instead addressed the skeleton walking with you.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“YOU!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She pointed, accusingly, with her free arm, at Red. “Okay, one; the HELL are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>doin’ with </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> bestie, you fuckin’ boney twerp??” You were switched from the crook of one scaley arm to the other, so she could put the other on her hip. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>two,</span>
  </em>
  <span> coach is finna </span>
  <em>
    <span>kick</span>
  </em>
  <span> your </span>
  <em>
    <span>coccyx</span>
  </em>
  <span> next time he sees you!” She was holding the sides of your head protectively, like a kid who didn’t want to share. You were choking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Red didn’t seem bothered. “sounds pretty serious. too bad he ain’t gonna see me, cuz s’really ‘bout time </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> did it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y’ain’t gotta worry about that,” she huffed, “cuz you got half the damn staff after ya. Can’t just skip </span>
  <em>
    <span>four weeks</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a class ‘n expect everyone to just be chill with it, dipshit, Boss’s gonna—“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“nah, he won’t. ‘less he finds out, which, how would he, assumin’ nobody rats me? ya got somethin’ ta tell me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that wasn’t a threat, cuz you an’ I </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> know I’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>gladly</span>
  </em>
  <span> take ya myself, let coach sit this one out,” she sneered, and all of a sudden you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wishing you weren’t still trapped there. You opened your mouth to pitch in, but were effectively cut off. “Just cuz we ain’t underground anymore, doesn’t mean I won’t still tear you a new asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“i kinda need one in the first place to get a new one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s funny, cuz ya sure act like one!”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was getting out of hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Actually, no. It wasn’t, unfortunately. You were still </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> in hand (well, arm) and you wished you weren’t. The world was starting to fade. Time is fleeting. Help.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“an’ how would coach feel about one of his star students gettin’ into a fight on his watch? might be enough ta get’cha booted right off the wrestlin’ team.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Soon as he found out whose skull it was I was cavin’ in, I guarantee Sullivan would look the other way. Coach ain’t about to lose his best asset.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“well, yer an ass, alright.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“At least I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> one!”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The light… you could see it…</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“i think ya might be killin’ yer bestie, there, big shot ass-wrestler. pretty sure involuntary manslaughter’s a suspension, at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were dropped immediately, but didn’t really care. Finally, oxygen. You half listened to them talk a while longer while you caught your breath, before finally speaking up again. “Please don’t kill each other. I’m right here, I’m the only witness. Shit’s suspicious. I’m gonna have to move again.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You got a hard slap on the back and a laugh out of that one, as your </span>
  <strike>
    <span>attacker</span>
  </strike>
  <span> friend reached up to tighten her ponytail.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry ‘bout that, punk! And naw, doofus an’ I are just goofin’. Ain’t nobody gotta move. Right, other punk?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Red rolled his eyelights. “yeah, sure. anyway, sweets, didn’t know you’s was friends with sharky here. now i feel outta the loop.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sweets????</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You could’ve guessed Undyne had never heard a joke before in her life, by how hard she was wheezing.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Red, don’t tell me— </span>
  <em>
    <span>you two??</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“caught me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span> We need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” This had gone on too long. You grabbed a handful of the back of his jacket and tugged. His shoes skid on the linoleum, but Red didn’t make any attempt to stop you. “I’ll text you later, I have class.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hooooold on there, punk, I came over here for a reason! Well, to get somethin’ from my locker, but.” You were lifted, effortlessly, off the ground by the back of your shirt, and turned toward her. “Came to ask ya when you were gonna stop dodgin’ hanging out with me.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’d hoped she hadn’t noticed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaws had been trying to hang out with you for about two months now, but ever since your last meetup, you’d been… hesitant. You and Jaws’ last night out had consisted of driving around, getting fast food… breaking into an old skate park. Ya’know. Normal stuff. She insisted she always practiced there, and knew a way in, through a loose bit of the surrounding fence. And if </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t seem to mind the ‘no trespassing’ signs everywhere, why should you? She had a board, and you’d just so happened to have your beloved roller blades in the van... so why not? Well, you found out why about a half hour after sneaking in; and the reason had flashlights and could run fast. Needless to say, the two of you booked it out of there with the headlights off until you were a ways down the road. Unluckily for you, though, driving without your lights on is illegal for a reason, and you had a hard time explaining what happened to your right headlight when you got home… </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the nasty dent around where it used to be. (And you now had to pay for repairs all on your own, as a result.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ever since then, you’d been coming up with an excuse to not go out every time she asked. It wasn’t that you didn’t have fun hanging out with her— you did! There was never a dull moment with this fish woman. But you just had a couple reservations. Plus… the most responsible driver was down a vehicle. And the fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>were the responsible driver in this relationship said </span>
  <em>
    <span>leagues </span>
  </em>
  <span>about </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaws’</span>
  </em>
  <span> driving. If the two of you didn’t get in deep trouble, she’d put you both in intensive care.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me? Dodging? I’m appalled.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so full of shit, you know it. We haven’t hung out since September. You’re dodging.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Am not.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You totally are! I knew it!” She sighed. “Look, I have class to get back to, but think about it, okay??? I’m bored as hell.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally back on your feet again, she said her goodbyes, borderline threatened Red a little more, then took off back down the hall toward her locker. You watched her go, once again left alone with the skeleton that was supposed to have you in class about twenty-something minutes ago.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Red.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn, it’s cold.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You stood outside the school, arms crossed… now, luckily, more equipped for the cold weather than you were on Friday. Still the snow was coming down, piling in your hair and sticking to your clothes, as you waited for Sans. He’d texted you earlier about waiting on Papyrus, but maybe something came up. You were dialing to call him when the front doors opened.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“hey. sorry ‘bout the wait,” he said, pulling a winter hat over his skull, “went all the way down to the stadium to get him and he told me practice was runnin’ late tonight, so he got a ride. so it looks like it’s just us today.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” You shrugged. “Alright, that’s cool. Let’s head out then, I can’t feel my eyeballs.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two of you decided to take the shorter way home. Ebott was actually pretty big, one of the bigger cities you’d lived in. And your school was an inner-city school, meaning it was a good hour walk to your apartment on the edge of where the city stopped and the residential area started. Luckily, Sans lived in the (really nice) houses a couple blocks down from where you did, so he didn’t mind taking a detour. You often wondered just how much you had to pay to live in a house like theirs. Benefits of having a dad who’s a teacher, you guessed.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know any other skeletons?” You’d kind of asked out of nowhere, but you wanted to break the silence. As silent as walking through a polluted, overpopulated city </span>
  <em>
    <span>got,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that is. He obliged.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“i mean. Papyrus. and dad, i guess.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I mean, besides them.” You rolled your eyes. “Obviously I know them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He scratched his temple under his hat and thought. Despite the cold, he seemed to be sweating a little. “hm. yeah, i guess i do. why’dja ask?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’re they like?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“what’re they </span>
  <em>
    <span>like?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He parroted, looking more confused. “got one word for ya. </span>
  <em>
    <span>unstable.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What…?”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p><span>That… caught you off guard. You’d spent half a period with Red today— before, merely </span><em><span>seconds</span></em><span> ahead of the bell, he’d done… </span><em><span>something,</span></em><span> something weird, that made you immediately vomit into the nearest trash can… it was like, one second, you were in one hallway, and the next you were </span><strike><span>standing</span></strike><span> collapsing in front of the school library. You hadn’t had time to question him; by the time you were finished emptying your gut into the trash, the bastard had already made his escape. A teacher had come out to check on you, </span><em><span>your</span></em> <em><span>art teacher, </span></em><span>actually… he told you that, because of all the construction going on in the building, the computer up front hadn’t been updated in a couple months. When he’d taken the class to the room you found Red in, and found out that the wall between 208 and 209 had since been </span><em><span>demolished</span></em><span> to make one big room (you </span><em><span>knew</span></em><span> it should’ve been there)... he’d decided they would just hold class in a corner of the library until they could find a better place.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Despite how upset you were about that, you found the word “unstable” to be a little off-putting. Was Red </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> all that volatile? Surely not… perverse and a little rough around the edges, sure, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>unstable?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“kid, word from the wise… stay </span>
  <em>
    <span>away</span>
  </em>
  <span> from that guy. he’s bad news,” he turned around and stopped for emphasis, “i wouldn’t trust that guy further than i could spit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You wanted to butt in, but he knew you would. “trust me, (Y/N). i used to have government with him, before we all switched to econ, and we got split up. he creeps me the hell out.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… hm. You’d see. Something about this felt weird.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“but uh. somethin’ i wanted to ask ya.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“last week, i saw that new arcade finally opened up. the one with the laser tag?”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You remembered seeing something about it on one of your many walks home. It looked pretty cool, but had been under construction since mid-August.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“wanted to know if you wanted to go check it out. sometime. or somethin’. i know ya don’t have a car right now, but i can borrow dad’s. if you want, i mean. it’s cool if ya don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You laughed as he panicked when you agreed, and proceeded to berate him about it for the rest of the walk home. But something about what he said before kept prodding you.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…</span>
  <em>
    <span>Unstable?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact: Sans 100% lied abt havin to wait up for Papyrus just so you’d walk home with him + he could ask you out while y’all were alone, Papyrus was already at home watching Hell’s Kitchen the entire time</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>